


painting the roses red

by fitzcamebacktome



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, Dry heaving, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Nightmares, POV Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Whump, Whumptober 2020, but it's not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzcamebacktome/pseuds/fitzcamebacktome
Summary: Nicky wakes up in an unfamiliar room, but the purpose of it is far from unfamiliar to him. He's experienced many kinds of torture in his life, but this just might be the one that finally breaks him.
Relationships: Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 21
Kudos: 242





	painting the roses red

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [@leiascully](https://leiascully.tumblr.com/) and Jess AKA [@gavotteangel](https://gavotteangel.tumblr.com/) for all of your help! Jess I can't believe this was inspired by one of the first conversations we ever had lmao

They had been in Iran, working on following a lead on a possible human trafficking deal, when everything had gone to shit. Joe had been shot down. Nile followed not long after. Andy had yelled Nicky’s name as she tried to get to cover. Something hard had hit the back of Nicky’s head and he had lost the plot after that.

Blinking his eyes open with a groan, Nicky squinted at the bright light above him. Lifting himself up on his elbows, Nicky quickly assessed his surroundings. His readings all came back to him in one word: _white_. Everything was white. The wall, the floors, the ceiling, the door, his clothes. The floor underneath his bare feet was cold to the touch, but Nicky took note it was also smooth. 

And he was alone. 

_Shit._

Nicky was familiar with this type of situation. He had heard about it before, heard of the trauma people experienced in relatively small rooms like this one. Normally, he wouldn’t be worried. Joe and the others would come. That was a fact. With the only sound in the room the beating of his heart, Nicky silently prayed it would be sooner rather than later. Their bodies could heal from physical pain, no question. Although a form of psychological torture? The mind was a tricky thing, that. Those wounds were always harder to heal. 

Standing up, Nicky placed his hands on his hips with a sigh. There was no use in trying to break out or cause a ruckus. Looking back up at the light fixture with a wince - the only source of light in the windowless cell - he realized they were white neon tubes, which meant- 

“Bastards.” Nicky scoffed in Italian, finding himself slightly impressed despite himself, the light fixtures had been positioned just so, and nothing in the room cast any shadows. 

Holding his breath, Nicky listened intently. Even though he knew what to expect, the answer still shot ice through his veins. _Silence_. He heard absolutely _nothing_. Not even the small talk between guards, who he was sure were in front of his cell door. The room was completely vacant of any sound; soundproof. Slowly letting out his breath, Nicky glared at the door, curling his hands into fists, clenching his jaw.

“I’ll hold on as long as I can, my love,” he promised.

Walking over to the furthest wall, Nicky sat himself down with a plop, arms resting on his knees, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. Quietly, he began to sing what lullabies he remembered. 

Nicky awoke with a snort, lifting his head from where it had lolled to the side. The crick in his neck soon faded. He was unsure of how much time had passed, given the unchanging light, until his stomach growled loudly and he gathered it must have been a while. Wondering when they planned to feed him, Nicky’s eyes roamed around the room, where they were drawn to something new. 

A white paper plate had been placed in front of the door of his cell. On it was a small mound of white rice and next to it was a white cup. He hadn’t heard anyone come in or open a hatch in the door, even though Nicky was always a light sleeper. _Figures._

Sitting cross-legged in front of the meal, Nicky peered into the cup: milk. _Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant anymore._ He mentally shivered at the thought of going through this with that on top of it all. He had experienced lactose intolerance before and then it had stopped once he became immortal. The absence of any utensils didn’t deter him in the slightest as Nicky dug his fingers into the rice. His face twisted slightly as he ate. The rice was unseasoned, completely devoid of any taste; it was just pure texture in his mouth, if anything. But Nicky knew better than to complain, so he finished his meal, eyes flicking to the white sheet of paper that had been placed underneath the plate. 

Later, the purpose of the paper came to fruition as Nicky slid it underneath the door. He grit his teeth, trying to focus on anything except for the fact that his bladder was threatening to empty right then and there. 

The door swung open silently, revealing two guards completely dressed in white, like himself. Many thoughts rushed through Nicky’s brain in that instant. He could fight them, easily, but he had no idea where he was, how much bigger the compound was where he was being held. If he made a mistake, took a wrong turn, they’d shoot him and the last thing Nicky needed was them finding out about his immortality. Also he really needed to piss. 

So, he complied, stepping out into the hall. Nicky took note of the fact that the guard’s shoes were padded, so any and all sounds only came from the soft patter of his feet against the floor. The noise appeared louder than it was, almost reverberating off the walls. Neither of the guards looked his way once, or even laid a finger on him: a complete lack of social interaction. Nicky almost wished one of them had at least shoved him forward. He was led to a single white ceramic toilet.

Afterwards, as he stepped back into his cell, turning towards the two men, Nicky felt irritation bubble to the surface.

“Oh, give my compliments to the chef, would you?” he said sternly with a hint of sarcasm in Arabic. Without a word, or even the slightest change in either’s expression, the guards closed the door in his face.

Nicky walked back to settle against the same wall as before, hugging his knees to his chest. This was it. This was what the routine was going to be until the others came. 

A loud ringing started in his ears as Nicky stared at the ground. Clenching his jaw, he clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to quiet the noise, but to no avail. Dropping his hands in defeat, Nicky waited it out, in hopes it would go away; he hummed to himself as an attempt at a distraction. Eventually, it faded away. 

Nicky found the first thing he lost was his sense of time passing. Had weeks passed? A month? Had it already been hours since the last time the guards had come to collect him to relieve himself? Did they feed him at the same exact time every day, or did they change it up every time to throw him off, by an hour, a few minutes? Nicky quickly lost track of it all, not bothering to even try to comprehend it. 

He focused more on repeating short and simple facts about himself and his life **.** If Nicky was going to completely lose his entire sense of identity, he would do everything in his power to make sure that information would be what he lost after everything else.

“My name is Nicolo di Genova. I was born in 1069. I’m immortal. Died in 1099, where I met Yusuf al-Kaysani, the love of my life. My family consists of Andromache, Booker, Nile, Quynh, and Yusuf.” As Nicky kept up with the repetition, the words flowing from his mouth like a mantra, he would picture each person in his head, leaving Yusuf last to linger on his features more. Andy’s sharp features, Booker’s sad eyes, Nile’s bright smile, Quynh’s bubbly laughter, Yusuf’s eye crinkles. The fact that Yusuf radiated warmth like the sun, yet at the same time, couldn’t regulate any actual heat, which he would steal from Nicky. The mental image brought a small smile on his face. 

Quynh faded first. 

Nicky expected as much, but it still brought tears to his eyes as he tried to picture his sister. Something in the back of his mind told him she needed to be remembered, for what reason, he no longer knew. All he could do was keep up with his facts, doing what he could to remember, singing the words out loud as a last resort. 

_Was Nile the one with the sad eyes?_ Nicky shook his head. No, she was new, hadn’t had the chance to become jaded to the world yet. _Andy, then?_ He thought hard, running his hand through his hair, which had grown longer in the time he had been there, one of the few indications he had that time was, in fact, passing. _Sometimes,_ he finally decided. Booker always reeked of alcohol. If Nicky closed his eyes, he could almost smell it, a sickly sweet nasty chemical scent. His thoughts shifted to Yusuf and his curls. One of his favorite things was how unruly they always were when Yusuf first woke up. Nicky loved sinking his fingers into those curls, bringing Yusuf closer to-

The sound of thunderous footsteps startled Nicky out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He stood up straight with wide eyes and quick breaths, finding his cell to be empty. Crawling on all fours to the door, he laid his head on the ground, ear to the slit at the bottom, listening. No sounds of a scuffle, no yelling, no gunshots, the quiet was absolutely deafening. Nicky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, pressing his forehead to the floor with a groan. _Not real._

“My name is Nicolo di Genova. I was born in 1069. I’m immortal. Died in 1099, where I met Yusuf al-Kaysani, the love of my life. My family consists of Andromache, Booker, Nile…,” Nicky opened and closed his mouth. Brows furrowed with a frown, he lifted his head, scratching the back of it. “and Yusuf.” The way Andy fought and moved with her labrys was always effortless, full of grace. He was mad at Booker, why was he mad at him? Nile hadn’t known them long, but she had rescued them. Yusuf always attempted to break the tension with a joke when he knew Nicky was stressed. He tried to remember one of Yusuf’s jokes, but they all seemed to have slipped from his mind. _Oh well._

At some point Nicky found himself curled up in front of the cell door, hands against his stomach, which was aching immensely. He felt bloated and nauseous. Shoving his meal away, appetite nonexistent, he cursed the fact that they’d only fed him rice and dairy. Perhaps this was the outcome that they were hoping for. Either way, Nicky winced as he slipped the paper under the door and waited. 

The door opened and the guards simply stood there. They made no attempt to move to assist him in any way. Nicky managed to lift himself off the floor, stumbling ahead towards the toilet, hand pressed against his mouth. As soon as he reached it, he dry heaved. Nicky placed his arm on the wall behind the toilet, leaning his forehead against it. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his temple.

Although the nausea kept fading and returning, it would appear that nothing was coming up or going down as Nicky found himself straining on the toilet. Slamming his fist against the wall with a growl of frustration, Nicky heard a loud crack, followed by severe pain in his hand. Inhaling deeply, he waited a moment as his bones mended themselves back together, before flexing his hand as the stiffness faded. Giving up, he walked back to his cell.

Lying spread out on the floor, the chill feeling good against his skin, Nicky stared up at the ceiling. In the corner of his eye, he saw flashing lights. Jerking his head to the side, he found that there was nothing there. Covering his face with his hands, Nicky took a deep breath, ignoring his stomach’s discomfort.

“My name is Nicolo di Genova. I was born in 1069. I’m immortal. Died in… 1099, where I met Yusuf al-Kaysani, the love of my life. My family consists of Andromache, Nile, and Yusuf.” Repeating those words always left a bitter taste in his mouth. They felt wrong, but Nicky couldn’t pinpoint why. He had no one to fact check his words for him. _Andy lost someone dear to her. Who?_ He wasn’t sure. Nile had been a Marine. Yusuf laughed with his whole body. Faintly, Nicky could hear Yusuf’s laughter echoing in the room. 

The constipation went away over time.

Nicky had developed the habit of chewing off his fingernails due to the fact that he had been deprived from any sort of hygienic conditions. His skin was dry and his head constantly itched, which drove him nuts. Nicky kept developing sores but they thankfully always healed a second later. He can’t remember the last time he had a shower, let alone what heat felt like. At this point, he found it difficult to regulate his body temperature, he was always cold. The fact that his clothing hung looser on his body now didn’t help either.

Nicky rubbed his temples trying to ease the feeling that his head was going to explode. Closing his eyes didn’t help, it just brought on the sensation that his cell was moving. Where it could possibly be traveling to, Nicky didn’t know. He just knew it never stopped, he just got better at ignoring it. 

At the sound of gunshots, Nicky started. Plugging his ears with his fingers, he let out a groan, sure that his skull would in fact split open now. The moment they stopped, he fell asleep as exhaustion took over.

_Nicky walked around the carnage of bodies that seemed endless. He kept walking until he approached one that stood out like a sore thumb. It was him. He was dead. But he was completely untouched by any gore, not even a speck of dust on him. The other Nicky’s eyes shot open and he was in front of him in an instant, driving a blade into him and dragging it upwards. The searing sharp pain made it physically impossible for Nicky to cry out._

Nicky shot up from the ground, the sound of screaming loud in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from himself. That had felt too real, even for a dream. But it would be impossible to know what death felt like. Throat raw from yelling, he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath. 

“My name is Nicolo di Genova. I was born in…” Nicky stared at the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. _When was I born?_ “I’ve met the love of my life.” _What is his name? What does he look like?_ Nicky ran his hands through his hair, yanking lightly as he tried to remember. All that he could manifest was a blurry unfocused image. No matter how hard he strained to picture the man, it wouldn’t come. 

“I’m sorry, my heart. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked as he brought a shaking hand to his mouth, letting out a sob as tears blurred his vision and streamed down his face. Heart beating rapidly in his chest, Nicky found that he couldn't breathe no matter how much he tried. He slid against the wall onto his side. Desperate attempts to gulp in air fell short as he clawed at his chest, trembling all over. Vision now unfocused, but not from the tears, Nicky felt his eyes droop closed. 

Nicky played a game every time he got his meal. If his milk was less empty than it was before, he would have a bad day, or vice versa. Peering into the cup today, he hummed; _bad day_. 

As if on cue, a bright flash of light moved across the room in his peripheral vision. Clambering to his feet, Nicky tried to follow where it went. Nothing moved, as always. Roaring, he smashed his fist against the wall. He let out a yelp at the searing pain in his hand, holding it to his chest, unable to move it. Not long after, Nicky felt a strange sensation in his hand. He held it up to his face, examining it. Wiggling his fingers freely, he found the pain had faded. As if it had never happened. He let out a burst of maniacal laughter. _That was a new one._

“My name is Nicolo di Genova.” He surmised. That was all that Nicky supposed he was certain of. But it felt wrong, he was missing so much, he felt as if someone had carved his heart out. He felt empty, _quiet._ Numb.

At the arrival of Nicky’s meal, he scrunched his face up in disgust. The thought of eating made him sick to his stomach. Pushing the plate away, Nicky laid down, a sense of vertigo hitting him. Closing his eyes as the room spun, Nicky hoped he would just fall asleep. He was tired all the time, the constant light making it difficult, along with the hallucinations. But sleep didn’t want to claim him this time. Laughter echoed through the cell. Was someone laughing at him? Peaking one eye open, Nicky was unable to concentrate on the space around him for long. If someone _was_ laughing at him, he didn’t have the energy to care.

“My name is Nicolo di Genova.” 

“My name is…” 

++

Eight months. It took them eight fucking months to find a lead on where Nicky was located. Joe was pretty sure he would have completely unraveled if it wasn’t for Andy and Nile. He certainly came close many times. 

Joe led the team through the compound, not leaving room for Andy to argue about going first this time.

Copley had sounded reluctant over the phone when he told them Nicky's location. Now, Joe understood why as his eyes were overwhelmed by how white everything was. Even the guards were dressed head to toe in white.

That was quickly ruined as Joe and the others took down one man after the other. Blood covered every surface, a stark contrast to the white.

Quite a few times they were taken by surprise as a guard rounded a corner, footsteps completely silent. Joe found himself asking each person they came across where Nicky was, shooting those who refused to speak. He didn't know how many men they'd gone through before he finally found someone who was willing to lead them to the cell.

The moment the guard opened the cell door and stepped inside, Joe lifted his gun to the back of the man’s head and pulled the trigger. White was painted in crimson. Looking around the room, Joe found himself doing a double take. Nicky practically blended into the room as he stood facing him in the corner, only his hair and beard caught Joe’s eye. Both had completely grown out into a matted and knotted mess. His skin was a sickly pale color, eyes sunken in, he had lost a considerable amount of weight. Joe’s heart shattered at the sight. As Joe stepped forward, mouth open to speak, Nicky walked with a sluggish gait in front of him to stand before the blood and brain matter that was now dripping down. Joe’s stomach dropped. _Something was wrong._

Andy and Nile’s voices came from the doorway behind Joe. Nile let out a gasp. Joe turned towards them, palm out, shaking his head. _Stay back._ Andy must have seen the worry etched on his face, because she held Nile back gently with her arm. Nile looked between the two of them, eyes widening; she grabbed her golden cross between her fingers. Andy’s face hardened and she gave Joe a nod. 

Turning his attention back to Nicky, Joe slowly stepped forward until he was standing next to him. His nose twisted up at the foul smell that came from Nicky, who wore an impassive expression on his face, staring ahead. Joe wasn’t even sure if Nicky was aware he was there. His eyes were grey, vacant, seeming to have lost all color and life, like everything else in this cell. With a slight tilt of his head, Nicky reached his hand out towards the blood on the wall, smearing it on his fingers. Looking down at his hand, Nicky rubbed the blood between his fingers, and then brought them near his nose, inhaling. Joe watched as Nicky brought his hand away, staring at it, unblinking. 

“Nicolo…” Joe slowly reached his hand towards Nicky, resting it gently on his shoulder. It was as if a switch had been flipped; everything happened in an instant. Nicky physically jerked his entire body away from Joe. Nicky stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. He covered his ears with both hands, sliding down the wall, bringing his knees to his chest. Nicky scrunched his eyes tight and he began to scream.

_“Shit!”_ Joe drew his hand back. He turned towards Andy and Nile, hands in his hair, a desperate look on his face. Andy’s jaw was clenched, and Nile had tears in her eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, Joe blinked his own tears away before turning back to Nicky. He collapsed to his knees in front of Nicky, hands roaming over him, but never touching. Joe didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t stop screaming, there was absolutely no way he would hear Joe. Without thinking, Joe placed his hand over Nicky’s mouth. He felt Nicky convulse and gasp as his eyes shot open. Joe noticed that they were unfocused, staring through him. 

"Nicolo… you're okay. It's Yusuf." Joe said slowly, speaking to him in Italian. As Nicky removed his hands from his ears, fiddling with them on his knees, Joe repeated his words. 

“Lie,” Nicky whispered, sounding accusatory. Joe frowned. _What was a lie?_ Joe asked him. Nicky just repeated the same thing. Joe sat back on his heels with a sigh. He watched as Nicky returned his attention back to the tacky blood on his fingers. Between the blood on the walls, on the dead body, and on Nicky, it all stood out immensely. Joe’s eyes were continuously drawn to the scarlet, it being the only color his brain wanted to register in this room. The realization hit Joe, the blood was probably the first color other than white Nicky has seen in eight months; the metallic scent being the first thing he smelled. He couldn’t tell what was real or not anymore. _Joe was the lie._

“Nicolo, I’m real. I’m here,” Joe said softly, grabbing Nicky's hand. He tried to not feel deeply wounded when Nicky jerked his hand out of his grasp as if he'd been burned. Grabbing it again despite Nicky's protests, Joe placed his hand on his chest, letting Nicky sense his heartbeat. _Please work._ Nicky blinked, eyes clearing. He was finally looking at Joe, but with a mixture of fear and confusion, unknowing. Gripping Joe's shirt in his hand, he opened his mouth before snapping it shut. 

"Nicolo, it's Yusuf," Joe motioned behind him. "Andy and Nile are here too." 

_“Who?”_ Joe's whole body deflated as his heart shattered. _Oh, my love, what have they done to you?_

“We’re fa- friends. You can trust us,” Joe said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Come with us.” 

"Over?" Nicky asked with sad wide eyes. Joe’s expression grew serious as tears filled his vision.

"Yes, Nicolo,” Joe nodded his head. “It’s over. No one's going to hurt you anymore." His voice cracked towards the end, tears finally spilling over. Sniffling, Joe wiped his face with his hand. Nicky was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place, which he wasn’t used to. He was supposed to know Nicky better than himself, vice versa. Slowly, Joe stood up and Nicky followed suit. Joe took a hesitant step backwards, which Nicky met with a step forward. With a quick satisfied nod, Joe turned on his heel and began walking out; Andy and Nile walked ahead of them. Joe kept looking over his shoulder to reassure himself that Nicky was indeed trailing behind him. 

“Art,” Nicky said as his eyes were drawn every which way to the splatter marks of blood in the halls.

Joe snorted despite himself. “Yeah, like a Jackson Pollock painting.” He muttered.

The minute Andy started the car, Nicky whimpered, clamping his hands over his ears once more.

“Off,” he whined desperately, eyes locked on the car in front of him. 

“Guys, we _really_ need to get going,” Andy said regretfully, popping her head out the window.

“I’ve got it!” Nile rushed forward, opening the door to the passenger side. Reaching in, she plucked something from the center console. Jogging back to Joe and Nicky, she held out her hand showing them her headphones. Joe could _kiss_ her, _bless her._

“Here, you can put these in your ears,” Nile mimed the motion for Nicky. “It won’t completely block the sound, but it should help.” She shrugged, handing the headphones out towards Nicky. Nicky looked between Nile and the headphones before grabbing them. He mimicked her, holding them near his ears, uncertain. She gave him a small smile, nodding in encouragement. The moment Nicky put them in his ears, the tension in his shoulders slightly lessened.

“Quiet.” Nicky breathed out a sigh of relief. Joe mouthed _thank you_ to her.

“You’re welcome,” Nile said in Italian, with a wink.

Once they all were all in the car and Joe shut the door behind him, Nicky began to panic. His breathing picked up again and he was shaking all over. 

_“Joe.”_ Andy looked back at him in the rear-view mirror, hands gripping the wheel.

“I _know,_ Andy,” Joe said through clenched teeth.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Nile said. 

“What’s causing it?” Joe asked, more to himself. He tried to think about what being in a cell like that for eight months could do, only realizing he would feel overwhelmed about everything. Nicky began to scramble around in his seat, pushing his hands against the roof of the car, like he was caged in. _This is another cell._ “Andy, open his window!” Without hesitation, she slammed her finger on the button. Nicky practically threw his head out the window, gasping for breath. His hands gripped the windowsill, knuckles turning white. As his breathing finally calmed, Nicky sagged against the door, head lolling against it, making sure part of his head was still out of the car.

The rest of the car ride went as expected.

At the safe-house, Andy and Nile made themselves scarce, giving Joe and Nicky space. Nicky just stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet, biting his lip. 

“Nicolo, what’s wrong?” Nicky’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom door and Joe, a pleading look in his eyes. _Oh._ Joe’s heart clenched. “You don’t have to…” He waved with his hand to the door dismissively, “You don’t have to ask permission.” With that, Joe left Nicky to walk into the bedroom to grab him a new pair of clothes. He decided on Nicky’s most comfortable ones. Walking back out to the living room, Joe froze. Nicky was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, clearly having an anxiety attack this time. 

“Nicolo! What-” Joe dropped the clothes, rushing over to Nicky, whose eyes had glazed over. Joe looked Nicky over, trying to figure out what had happened. His attention was drawn to Nicky’s pants, which were now stained yellow. Ignoring that for the moment, Joe proceeded to let his eyes roam over Nicky, eyes following Nicky’s line of sight and locking on the bathroom. The bathroom was _white_. Joe let out a string of curses, reaching around Nicky to close the door. He led Nicky to a chair in the bedroom, kneeling in front of him. 

“You’re not there. You’re _here_. This is real. Breathe with me, Nicolo.” Joe placed Nicky’s hand on his chest, taking in a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. It took a few times before Nicky finally followed along, calming down. Joe quickly cleaned up the mess, not wanting to leave Nicky alone for anymore than he had to.

They threw out everything they owned that was white. 

Nile suggested blindfolding Nicky for when he had to use the restroom. Neither of them were fond of the idea, but Joe was out of options. And right now, Nicky needed to get clean, without question. 

Joe started the bath, satisfied with the temperature of the water. He walked back to the bedroom to see Nicky exactly where he had left him. Nicky held the blindfold in his hands, running his fingers against the fabric. 

“Ready?” Joe asked with his hands on his hips. Nicky jumped slightly, looking up at Joe.

“Quick?” Joe gathered that he was asking _will it be over quickly?_

“I can’t make any promises.” Joe said honestly with a shrug. Nicky let out a noncommittal hum before standing to follow him. Joe paused at the bathroom door, turning around to see Nicky had already tied the blindfold around his eyes. He opened the door, guided Nicky forward with a hand on his back. Closing the door silently as to not freak Nicky out, Joe stood looking at a very clothed Nicky. _This is a problem, and not the usual kind._

“Okay, how are we going to do this?” Joe scratched at his head. 

Nicky proceeded to strip without warning, moving almost mechanically. Joe’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at Nicky’s forwardness. He helped where Nicky needed it, but otherwise stepped back, letting Nicky do it on his own. Joe’s jaw clenched now that he could properly see just how much weight Nicky had lost. Reeling back his emotions, Joe took Nicky’s hand, guiding it to the water. 

“It shouldn’t be too hot.” Joe said. As Nicky’s fingers dipped into the water, he withdrew his hand with a hiss. Joe reached out towards him but stopped as Nicky hovered his hand over the water, hesitating, before placing his hand back in. He dragged his hand through the water. Joe let himself smile at Nicky’s bout of courage. 

“Okay?” Joe asked after a few minutes. He took Nicky’s silence as close to affirmation as he was going to get. It took a few awkward attempts, including a moment where Nicky almost slipped, before Nicky was finally seated in the middle of the tub, hugging his knees to his chest. Joe reached over to grab the wash cloth, dunking it into the tub before squirting a decent amount of soap on it. Once it was all mixed in, Joe began to speak softly to Nicky, talking him through everything he was going to do before he did it, giving Nicky a chance to object. He even went as far as gently rubbing his hand across Nicky’s back before placing the washcloth there. Nicky tensed after the first couple of times, but eventually Joe felt him relax. 

Nicky began to flinch more and more the lower Joe got with the washcloth, so once he had cleaned as much of Nicky’s backside that was considered comfortable for Nicky, Joe grabbed Nicky’s hand, placing the washcloth in it and moving it to his chest. It took a moment for Nicky to comprehend, but he eventually understood and began to clean his front.

“Do you want to wash your hair or me?” Joe asked. Pausing in his ministrations, Nicky tilted his head in thought. 

“Me.” Joe would be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping Nicky had wanted him to do it. Perhaps that was selfish of him.

“Alright, this is going to have to come off.” Joe tugged at the blindfold. “Can you close your eyes?” 

“Dark.” Nicky said quietly. Hoping Joe had understood him correctly, he cautiously removed the blindfold, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding at the sight of Nicky’s eyes closed tightly. 

The rest of the bath went pretty easily, all things considered. Joe helped Nicky with drying off, trimming his nails and his beard with scissors. As he offered to trim Nicky’s hair, Nicky shook his head, placing his hands on his head in protest. Letting out a small laugh, Joe proposed a compromise, tying some of his hair up in a bun. Nicky agreed with a nod, feeling the back of his head once Joe was done and letting out a hum. The corner of Joe’s mouth curled up into a smile at the sight in front of him; Nicky was the spitting image from the first time the two of them had met. 

Joe never had the patience that Nicky had needed to have to be a sniper. But he did his best to take it slow with Nicky, especially on the days where he struggled with concentrating. Andy and Nile were too much extra stimulus for Nicky. So, reluctantly, they left; Nile with a "He'll be okay, right?" and Andy with a "You'll get through this, you guys always do." 

Sometimes it seemed like they were doing well, and then something triggered Nicky and they took multiple steps back. Joe was always there, having fallen asleep in a chair next to the couch, when Nicky woke up screaming and disoriented from nightmares; or when he got angry and began to throw things. 

Joe was reintroducing him to different senses, working on one at a time, so he didn’t overwhelm him. At night, Joe would share information and tell stories to Nicky about himself, in hopes that when Nicky slept, it would trigger memories. Whether it did or not, Nicky never said. He never spoke much; Joe had gotten better and better at deciphering Nicky’s one-word responses and what they meant. He seemed to have forgotten all other languages he spoke except for his mother tongue. But that didn’t stop Joe from encouraging Nicky to speak more, while also speaking to him in other languages from time to time. He could have sworn once in a while he caught a flash of recognition cross Nicky’s face, but it was always gone in an instant. 

It took months before Joe heard Nicky laugh again. Caught completely off guard, Joe had almost dropped the mug he had been holding. He didn’t even remember what he had said to bring out that reaction from Nicky. Tears sprang to Joe’s eyes as a wide smile crossed his face. Nicky’s eyes were drawn to the tears, ignoring that Joe was clearly happy. He frowned, expressing his concern. Joe shook his head reassuring Nicky nothing was wrong.

“You. Your laughter, it’s beautiful.” Nicky’s eyes widened at the compliment as a blush spread across his cheeks. For once, Nicky’s silence wasn’t because of his trauma. 

After that, Joe noticed Nicky had been going out of his way to touch him more. They had already worked with Nicky on getting him used to another person’s touch. It was one of the first sensations they had focused on. But this was different; hands brushing against each other, Nicky leaning more into Joe’s touch. 

“Habibi.” Joe choked on the tea he had been drinking, whipping his head to where Nicky was reading at the table. Coughing, he cleared his throat before speaking, eyes wide. 

_“I’m sorry?”_

“The same?” Nicky motioned between them with his finger. 

“Yes, we used to call each other ‘my love’," Joe confirmed. Nicky let out a hum, directing his attention back to his book; conversation over. Eye twitching, Joe stared at him, mouth slightly agape. The corner of Nicky’s mouth ticked up, causing Joe’s heart to flutter. The man had the _nerve_ to tease him.

It took two years, but Nicky had finally started to settle. He was speaking in full sentences, sentences in other languages even, as they came back. Some facts in his mind were still fuzzy, he would continue to ask Joe to confirm pieces of information as his memories slowly returned. 

Joe didn’t remember when their sleeping arrangement had started with him sleeping on the floor next to Nicky, who slept on the couch. Nicky liked to always be in open spaces now instead of a bedroom with a single door. But that was how they found themselves, every night as Joe told Nicky of their past adventures. Nicky always listened intently, occasionally interrupting to ask for clarification here and there; otherwise he just absorbed everything Joe said.

On one particular night, Joe had decided to share the story about how the two of them had first gotten married legally. Both had their heads resting on their hands propped up by their elbows, mirroring each other.

Nicky dangled his hand over the side of the couch, an invitation, eyes never looking away from Joe’s. Joe flicked his eyes between the hand and Nicky, before slowly reaching his own hand up. He hesitated, waiting for Nicky to change his mind. Instead, when Nicky wiggled his fingers, Joe let out a small laugh, intertwining their fingers together. Electricity shot through his hand, spreading a warmth throughout his body.

“My name is Nicolo di Genova.” Nicky said. It wasn’t a question, but Joe found himself bobbing his head in confirmation anyway. Nicky brought Joe’s hand toward his mouth, placing a soft kiss on his knuckle. Joe’s breath hitched. Nicky’s mouth twitched, but he kept his attention on their hands.

“I was born in 1069.” Joe nodded once more, receiving an additional kiss on another knuckle. “I’m immortal.” Another nod, another kiss. Joe’s heart beat fast in his chest. “Died in 1099, where I met Yusuf al-Kaysani, the love of my life.” Joe stared at him, face softening. Nicky directed his eyes to Joe, brow raised slightly. Joe swallowed before affirming; a quick peck to the next knuckle in line. 

“My family consists of Andromache, Booker, Nile, Quynh, and Yusuf.” As Joe further verifies what Nicky was saying, Nicky let his lips linger on Joe’s last knuckle before he pulled him forward to his knees, halfway on the couch, resting his forehead against Joe’s.  
He let out a deep sigh. “I’m not _him._ I don’t think I’ll ever be him again,” Nicky said regretfully.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve changed, you know?” Joe said matter-of-factly. Nicky scoffed, pulling away. Wrong thing to say. Nicky knew, of course, but he didn’t _know._ That’s what this is about. Joe gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll just love this version of you just as much as the others,” Joe quickly adds earnestly, hoping the expression he wore showed exactly how true his words were. Nicky searched his face for any traces of deception. Satisfied with what he saw, Nicky let out a slow breath. Suddenly Nicky’s body language shifted, he became nervous. 

Biting his lip, Nicky seemed to be contemplating something. Instantly, Joe’s eyes were drawn to his lips. Looking back at Nicky, Joe’s eyes locked with his. Nicky leaned forward, pressing their lips together. It was quick, but Nicky didn’t pull back far before slipping his hand out of Joe’s and cupping Joe’s face with both hands, bringing him in close to kiss him long and slow. It felt nostalgic, yet new at the same time, with Nicky’s beard especially. Joe practically melted into him, eyes fluttering closed. His fingers twitched at the thought of cupping the back of Nicky’s neck to deepen the kiss, but he was content with holding back, letting Nicky move at his own pace. 

Pulling away, Joe blinked his eyes open, staring at Nicky and trying to read his expression. A wide smile spread across Nicky’s face, which Joe couldn’t help but mirror. Nicky laid his head down on the pillow, smile never faltering. He entangled their fingers together again as Joe went to lay back down facing him. Joe’s face began to hurt from smiling but he didn’t care. _They’ll be okay._ Nicky swung their hands in the air between them, eyes twinkling.

“Tell me another story about us.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic came from the song from Alice in Wonderland! I liked the mental image of the white room eventually being 'painted' red lol
> 
> I tried my absolute best to be as respectful as I could with this fic. White room torture is very real and a lot of the things that Nicky goes through in this fic were pulled from things people have actually experienced from being subjected to that kind of trauma. I wanted to make his experience and recovery seem as realistic as possible without getting extremely detailed about certain things; and the fact that trauma changes a person and that it's okay if you're not the same as you were before.


End file.
